


Who Needs Stolen Paintings, Or Shirts Anyways?

by Jenn222



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Thief AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn222/pseuds/Jenn222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy finds the perfect painting to steal, too bad it's already stolen. Even worse the thief is the hot one night stand he had just a little bit ago... (Probably a one shot, could turn into more)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Needs Stolen Paintings, Or Shirts Anyways?

Bellamy was able to pop the window open and slide inside without much issue. His feet touched down on the floor as lightly as possible.  
The loft was mostly dark, there was one alcove to Bellamy’s left that had the soft glow of a single light. Bellamy figured the owner must’ve forgotten to turn it off as the light wasn’t very obvious. It barely lit anything outside of the alcove. Bellamy wondered what was kept over there as he was unable to see inside of it from the angle he was at. However, he had a purpose for being there, he couldn’t get distracted by anything.

With that thought he glanced up at the wall diagonally across from the window that he had entered through. He could just make out the painting through the glow cast by the street lights out the window.

He knew what painting it was; San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk, more commonly referred to as Sunset in Venice, a Monet. A very pretty, very expensive Monet.

He wasn’t sure what such a famous painting was doing inside an upperclass loft in New York City, but when he’d seen it he’d known he needed it. His practiced eyes had recognized the Monet in less than a second.

Octavia had told him it was too risky, too personal. He’d assured her it wasn’t.

So what if he’d had a one night stand with the owner of the painting. A woman he’d met at a bar was all she was. A woman that he may have wanted to call again and maybe go on dates with, but that was besides the point. Bellamy was a thief and thieves didn’t get to date regular girls. Especially not a rich girl with such nice taste in paintings.

He’d made it only three steps from the window when a voice startled him into complete motionless fear.

“If you wanted it, you could’ve asked first.” She had stepped out of the alcove and was looking at him with a surplus of amusement. Her eyebrows were raised at him and everything.

When his eyes met her’s he was reminded of how beautiful she was. Her eyes were bright blue, looking straight through him. She had lovely blonde, wavy hair and she stood in only a man’s white button up shirt. The sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, a paintbrush was clasped in her hand and there was a smudge of blue paint across her cheek.

Bellamy realized from the feeling in his stomach and a bit lower, that Octavia may have been right. This might be a little too personal, especially if the blonde was going to remain in only that button-up shirt for much longer.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” Was all Bellamy managed to say after about five minutes of silence. He wanted to smack himself upside the head for that. He had been so much smoother the night he’d met her. Of course, he’d been invited into her house then, this time was a bit different. Alright, a whole lot different.

She smirked.

“Had a feeling you’d be back, you showed a little too much interest in the Monet.”

He cursed inwardly at his mistake. He’d been too eager; showing too much interest, coming back three days later. It was a rookie mistake and Bellamy was no rookie.

“Are you going to call the cops?” He asked hesitantly. He felt like he was a child caught by his mother when he’d been drawing on the walls, asking if she was going to tell dad when he got home. He hated himself for even asking the question. If she hadn’t made him so… so disheveled and shocked he’d have already been out the window and at least a mile away by now.

“What so they can take my Monet back to the Guggenhiem? Then my replacement will have been an awfully large waste of time.” She gestured behind her at the alcove. (The alcove Bellamy should’ve been more cautious about, there was a light on! That should’ve given him some kind of warning.)

He knew it was foolish, but he stepped forward, getting further into her apartment so he could glance into the lighted area.

The alcove was slightly larger than he’d expected. It had a desk to the right side facing away from him, and facing him an art easel. The easel had a lovely painting on it.

It was the Monet; Sunset in Venice, but only about ⅚ of the way done.

He stared at it in awe for a couple moments. He’d have thought it the real one if it had been completely finished. The way the water the colors blended a contrast to the dark building they surrounded.

“You’re a forger.” He uttered out, everything seemingly clicking into place.

“I prefer artist.” She told him casually with a shrug.

“And a thief.” He turned to face the real Monet on her wall. He should’ve known that the painting belonged in a museum exhibit. He would have had he not been so giddy at the excuse to return to her loft. He’d ignored the obvious signs right in front of him.

“Collector.” She corrected him with a cat-like grin.

“Seems we have something in common.” Bellamy chuckled as he spoke. He was feeling his normal cool self.

“More than expected of a random one night stand from a bar.” She spoke with a small smile now. Bellamy moved slightly closer, looking her over again. He was staring at her bare legs.

“Doesn’t have to be a one night stand” He takes another step closer.

“You didn’t leave a number.” She states with a shrug. He nodded at her words, she was right. He hadn’t left a number or anything. He couldn’t before. He was a thief and she seemed to be some nice girl he met at a bar, but now he knew she was a thief too.

“It wouldn’t have made sense to. My number changes constantly.” Bellamy glances again to the button-up shirt she wore. “Plus I left my shirt.”

The girl grinned. “It’s nice.”

Bellamy smiled back. It was one of his nicer shirts, He’d gone to the bar after a job in which he’d had to wear a suit and had met the blonde. He hadn’t meant to leave the shirt, but in the morning he hadn’t been able to find it anywhere. He’d hurriedly looked around her bedroom and on the stairs down to the large living/dining/kitchen area and hadn’t been able to locate it. He ended up wearing a white tank top under his suit jacket, Octavia had found that particularly amusing.

“I was planning on getting that back tonight as well.”

She bit her lip coyly at that. “Come and get it then.” She told him.

He crossed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. He didn’t need to be told twice.

His fingers found the buttons on her shirt– his shirt? And began to undo them, however at this point he didn’t much care about actually getting the shirt back.

“You remember where the bedroom is?” She murmured as his lips moved down her neck.

“Yeah.” He managed to hum out between kisses. Except he was much too busy to actually start towards the stairs and move up them to where her bedroom was. She began to pull him along, taking charge.

His lips were still attached to hers and his fingers still working on the buttons. By the time they’d made it stumbling into the bedroom he had gotten ahold of the last button and practically ripped it off. He could finally get her out of the damned shirt.

“Finally.” He exclaimed aloud. She giggled and pulled him to her bed and began to drag his shirt off of him. He grinned.


End file.
